When I was a child,
I used to love night driving.
I'd see the red glow of the rear lights,
And see rockets.
Wheels concealed beneath shadow
The road a lane of cosmic stretch.
Hill side speckled with orange lamps,
Each one over a house or two.
Inside their walls I pictured rooms,
With children with really good toys.
Mums and Dads and fridges of food,
Tickets to fayres and school uniforms.
I wondered if their teachers were nice,
And pretty.
When I was a child I used to love night drives,
Back seat window gazing awe,
At the size of the land.
I could feel their minds,
And the sleeping girl in the car next door,
In her spaceship in the same direction,
As mine,
Rumbling road sounds like sea shells to my ear,
She has a blanket at home, with bears,
Goodbye fellow traveller of night time motorway,
Blessed be, like me.
Years ago, this feeling grew,
Still inside,
But I never did learn to drive.
I used to love night driving.
I'd see the red glow of the rear lights,
And see rockets.
Wheels concealed beneath shadow
The road a lane of cosmic stretch.
Hill side speckled with orange lamps,
Each one over a house or two.
Inside their walls I pictured rooms,
With children with really good toys.
Mums and Dads and fridges of food,
Tickets to fayres and school uniforms.
I wondered if their teachers were nice,
And pretty.
When I was a child I used to love night drives,
Back seat window gazing awe,
At the size of the land.
I could feel their minds,
And the sleeping girl in the car next door,
In her spaceship in the same direction,
As mine,
Rumbling road sounds like sea shells to my ear,
She has a blanket at home, with bears,
Goodbye fellow traveller of night time motorway,
Blessed be, like me.
Years ago, this feeling grew,
Still inside,
But I never did learn to drive.
